


Purple Triangles and White Squares

by jenna_thorn



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna_thorn/pseuds/jenna_thorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That’s how Ethan found them on his return, Will writing up a bulletpoint summary of their findings while Benji drooled onto his shoulder, a faded purple and white quilt tucked around them both, and on the screen of the other laptop, a queen sized quilt of an octopus dragging a pirate ship under the waves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple Triangles and White Squares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [james](https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/gifts).



Safe houses quickly accumulated an odd mix of milspec supplies and local accumulations, clean black lines of unmarked equipment sitting next to scavenged goods and re-packed, half full medkits stocked alongside hermetically sealed requisitioned replacements like modern skyscrapers with muddy multicolored snowdrifts.

Below the stacks of cheap towels, there was a quilt, probably pulled from the trash as an impromptu cover or used to line a transport. It had been meticulously cleaned, folded, and left to dissolve into thread and cotton batting, but it was soft to the touch. Will pulled it free and grabbed the towel that came with it in his off-hand. 

The bathroom door was open. He tapped the toilet lid down with a foot, and put the towel atop it. “I expected a cloud of steam.”

“No pressure, lukewarm water. I’m living my Gran’s stories about her childhood. Minus the blood pudding.”

“My granddad always talked about organ meats when he was pissed about my living in a time of central air and video games.”

Benji stuck his head out of the shower. “You’re not just inching toward a haggis comment?”

Will grabbed the towel to flip it over Benji’s head. “You’re as Scottish as I am, limey.”

“I’m closer by several thousand miles, Cali-girl.” Benji shivered. “Is the heat on?”

“Are you dripping wet?” Will answered. “Other room. C’mon.”

Will grinned at the mumbled grousing as he walked away. The safe house had a cache of weapons, a cabinet of medical supplies and no furniture whatsoever. Priorities. He pulled the wool blankets of their bedding into a nest by where Benji’d put his over-engineered power strip and Benji threw himself to the floor beside him by the time he’d grabbed the external hard drive and double handful of thumb drives. 

“Oh pretty!” Benji exclaimed as he tugged the quilt over them, dislodging two of the flash drives and tipping the hard drive to land on one extremely sharp corner onto Will’s thigh. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and absent-mindedly rubbed the hurt with one hand as he flipped open the case with the other. “It’s a lost art, I guess, quilting.”

“You’d be surprised,” Will answered and as they sorted through surveillance photos and decoded transcript locks, any pauses to upload or compile were filled with images of quilts, Will’s officemate’s Wordpress account leading them briefly to a blog of a woman who specialized in meticulously pieced quilts of impressionistic masculine genitalia and thence to a group who made quilts with comic book iconography and further.

That’s how Ethan found them on his return, Will writing up a bulletpoint summary of their findings while Benji drooled onto his shoulder, a faded purple and white quilt tucked around them both, and on the screen of the other laptop, a queen sized quilt of an octopus dragging a pirate ship under the waves.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a trick or treat treat for James


End file.
